Those foot pad things that claim to take the toxins out of you?
Bamboo pads from Poppy Cede on Vimeo.
Yah, that’s what I think about those.
You’re welcome.
Saturday night Dawg and I did indeed go to the rescheduled-from-May-2nd-2008-performance of Kevin Smith, which was held in Englewood, NJ.
I am not impressed with Englewood’s accommodation of Mr. Smith. I am also not impressed with the intelligence level of the crowd regarding the style of Smith’s shows. The entire show is us, the audience, asking him questions and him answering them. It’s not a set show. His content is generally driven by the questions we ask. Granted, he goes off on the oddest seeming tangents for very long stretches of time, but that’s his charm. His shows go long. Very long. He started at 8pm. He likes to go until he’s done. When quarter to midnight rolled around he had about another hour or two left of people in line, based on the pace at which he was answering questions. I chose this time to go to the lobby for my first bathroom break and a fountain soda Coke from the lobby bar. While in the lobby and in the bathroom I had the very unpleasant experience of listening to people who worked for the theater as well as audience members bitching their heads off about how long the show was.
A. People who work the shows: You are making money. Shut up.
B. People who bought tickets: If you’re not into the format of the show THEN LEAVE. No one is making you stay. JUST YOU. It’s not like there’s a test at the end. It’s not like you didn’t get your $99 out of the show. So, fuck off.
I was listening to rumor after rumor that Smith had requested that he be able to take the stage until 1:00am but that the theater had been firm about their midnight curfew. I unknowingly I went back into the theater at about 11:55pm (I was one of the few people who paid attention to the “turn off your cellphones!!!!!” rule so had no time telling device to refer to), after having some trouble getting anyone to wait on me at the bar (too busy bitching) or anyone to open the door to the theater while both my hands were occupied with $2/8-oz glass, half filled with ice, of fountain soda Coke. When I finally did sit down the look on my face must have said “je n’suis pas amusée” because Dawg did ask if I was ok to which I curtly answered that I was fine. And then 5 minutes later the show ended. I almost had another Cloverfield experience. Fuck! I think that’s my new trademark, seriously: Walking out 5 minutes before the end of things and missing the ending. Sounds like a great trademark to have…
Anyway, I actually do digress from the main reason I am writing this post. It’s to tell you about one single, solitary segment of the performance. Kevin Smith was telling a story about a toilet and happened to mention that when he is in the comfort of his own home he now exclusively uses adult wipes, that “toilet paper is for poor people.” Now, really, he was joking about that snide remark, but when he said he only uses adult wipes I started nodding my head vigorously.
Raise your hand if you even know what an adult wipe is. It’s a baby wipe for adults. You wipe your netherly regious with it, to make you fresh and clean. My favorite brand is the Super Stop & Shop generic CareOne kind billed as “personal cleansing cloths” which I tend to use when I poop. Cuz, did you know? I poop! And when I poop it’s not always perfect and clean and smelling like flowers. It can be messy. So I use the wipes to clean myself off. And I like the way they feel… all squishy and refreshingly cleansing and they smell nice and they sting a little bit if you have any sensitive areas, but that means “it’s working!” so that part makes me happy.
If you are not using adult wipes, might I suggest you run out and buy some to try? And let me know what you think about them.
Now that I’ve talked about poop, let me tell you if I’m cute or sexy:
Yup, that sounds about right. You can take the quiz here.
Please listen to the Lick. Slam. Suck. talkcast this evening at 8:00pm Eastern during which Dawg and I will discuss transportation and lodging for the TequilaCon 2009 event!
…ever makes up her mind. I’m not keeping any particular blog template. I’m fucking around with templates until I find the one I like, if that ever happens. I hate the one I had. The cool features stopped working a long time ago and that’s enough to make me hate it. So, blog template: I HATE YOU. Plus the smilies stopped displaying after the 2.7 update so… meh.
…doesn’t know what she means. (Yes, contrary Poppy puts these two back to back. You love that about me.) So, the kid behind the counter at the Columbus Circle Barnes & Noble actually said to me of my Windows Server 2008 Inside Out purchase: “If you find you’ve purchased the wrong book for your server just bring us the receipt with the book.” Yah, no asshole. I really meant to buy that book, hence my schlep in the snowstorm all the way to your fucking store. And when I went back to my office I also really meant to buy Windows Server 2008 Terminal Services Resource Kit. But not from you.
…wants to watch you get your physical on. A few employees were having physicals performed in the lunch room. This included standing on chairs to be measured and HAVING THEIR FUCKING BLOOD DRAWN. One of the IT guys warned me what was going on in the lunch room and I almost fainted at the thought of it. Ask Dawg how I react to needles. Ask Dawg how I react to blood. Do it. Ask him. I think it would be hilarious to hear his side of Sunday’s sugar check.
…cares. Every time the salespeople at my company are absolute cuntyasswhores to me I laugh in their face. I do. It’s deserved. They need to be taught some fucking manners, but I’m not the person for the job, so I insult them by laughing at their abysmal social skills. I already worked another job where the people who made money for the company thought they were above everyone else. I don’t encourage that behavior in the least. Enjoy supporting yourself. Poppy don’t play that.
…hates cookies. I don’t hate cookies, I love cookies! I’d like an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie right now! But I’m kinda on this semi-diet right now (I knoooooow, I knowiknow) because I gained precisely 6.8 lbs over the holidays and when I add weight my back and leg starts to hurt so I need to nip that in the bud.
…doesn’t have healthcare. My insurance card arrived yesterday! w9999009999980000t! Going an entire month without insurance due to a “misunderstanding” was wildly uncomfortable. I was definitely much more careful about what I did with myself, though! And I saved $498! (Some of that was dental, which I also now have, but I think only $67 of it.)
…never thinks about her family. All day yesterday and today I’ve thought about my cousin who used to live in NYC, through college and at her first few jobs after, and who posted a profound piece of information about herself in her 25 random things about her on her Facebook page:
On 9/11 I took the subway home instead of walking across the 59th
Street bridge –neither seemed to be a particularly good option, and I
wasn’t wearing practical shoes. I now keep comfortable shoes at my
desk
Not only do I love how she wrote that, not only is it sound advice, but it brings me back to a day where I was worried sick about her because I didn’t understand how the city was laid out and that where she worked was absolutely nowhere near the towers. Did you know I now ride the subway train that goes to the World Trade Center 5 days a week? I do. And I think about that every day. But not about my cousin, so it’s good to think about her and know she’s safe. I should invite her to read my blog so she knows how much I care about her.
(I had to end my bitter ranty post with a little 
:)
Sometimes I really love the words that spring from my fingers. This is one of those sometimes.
My 2008 was pretty fucking fantastic. I did a lot of great things that started with me finally taking some control over my life and making decisions based on where I wanted to be rather than where life was taking me. Funny how 2008 was pretty fucking sucky for most of the rest of you. Maybe you gave me your good stuff? Thanks for that!
I did make one resolution for 2009. I don’t really make resolutions, don’t believe in them, but I’m pretty sure I can keep this one:
I resolve to be 20% more disappointing to people.
Came up with that one in bed sometime during the night between eve of eve and New Year’s Eve and I’m quite proud of it.
I’ve come to the conclusion that, no matter how hard I try to please people, there are a lot of people out in the world who prefer to be disappointed. So, I’m going to give them what they want, in the meantime stopping my habit of giving too much of myself to people who don’t deserve it, and just up front disappoint them. No more game of me trying my hardest to do what it is you maybe want, failing in your eyes, and being hurt by your disappointment.
I already lived that life back in Vermont. I already played that game. I’m not into games. I refuse to be a part of the game anymore. Call me when you’re ready to opt out of the game too or else enjoy my disappointment and shut the fuck up about it.
I intend to do this both in my professional and personal life. I will never do it in such a way that it makes me compromise my moral compass or sense of self or is specifically vindictive. I do expect, though, that this will allow me to feel comfortable in saying what is on my mind more often rather than being frustrated about the tug-of-war between saying what’s on my mind and hurting your feelings if I say it. And in the end maybe I will find that I disappoint people a lot more than the 20% extra I was hoping for, or maybe, just maybe, it will avoid disappointment altogether.
Snail cozy photo borrowed from craftastrophe.net. I am against snail cozies. I am for craftastrophes.
My things are in Queens in a super secret bat cave location, to be moved up the crazy stairs at 8am tomorrow by people we pay good money to complain a lot until they run out of breath and can’t complain anymore, then we offer them beverages.
You know what I like about Dawg? I’m a nasty cuntass bitch in his general direction, I apologize for it, and he gives me a hug and the concerned boyfriend face and says, “oh, Poppy, what are you sorry for???” Instead of yelling at me he loves me and tells me I’m awesome. See? Best Boyfriend award, right there.
So, yah, I was slightly psychotic yesterday. Not too, too bad but when we rolled into town at 9pm last night with two tasks still ahead of us — unpack the truck and return the truck — I was really super pissed that I could not find a parking spot because all the parking in that area has either been turned into bus depots or is eaten up by people who’d rather walk half a mile than pay $3 for parking at the mall.
I don’t know if Dawg plans to tell any more of the story, but at 1am we finally got back to the apartment, a truck lighter although it’s not officially turned in yet because WHAT U HAUL LOCATION DOESN’T HAVE A DROP BOX?! OH, THE ONLY ONE ON THE LIST NEARBY THAT WASN’T OUT OF BUSINESS OR TURNED INTO A FUCKING LAUNDRY MAT, THAT’S WHICH ONE. “We have security cameras watching you.” WELL HOW ABOUT THIS IMAGE OF ME FLIPPING YOU THE PEACE AND LOVE BECAUSE YOU COCKSUCKERS WOULD RATHER HAVE DROP BOXES FOR APPLICATIONS OF YOUR GAS CARD THAN KEYS TO ALL THE U HAULS PARKED AT YOUR PuMPS BY PEOPLE DESPERATE TO OFFLOAD THEIR TRUCKS?!
If I get over there today and the U Haul has been TICKETED or TAGGED or VANDALIZED IN ANY WAY I AM GOING TO CALL U HAUL AND PUNCH THEM IN THE NOSE THROUGH THE PHONE.
Lesson learned: It’s a really good idea to say “hi” in the morning before all the stressful stuff so the day isn’t as stressful. We both slept like a baby after the “hi”. (Yes, you needed to know that.)
I’m guessing none of my rant makes any sense, but you’ll have to excuse me as I need to hurry up and turn in the truck properly so I can then sit at the apartment waiting for various delivery services to deliver packages.
Hugs and slightly still bitchy kisses,
Poppy
Dear Steve Jobs,
The newest version of iMovie is a piece of fucking SHIT.
Whoever wrote it should be FIRED.
It takes me 17 years to do ANYTHING I could do in the older version. You’ve totally fucked over a piece of previously functional software.
Thanks for nothing, you asshat.
Unfuckingsincerely,
nlm Poppy mln
Woot!
I finally got the award I was slightly jealous of never receiving but didn’t want to call attention to, and then I got it again a day later!
Life is funny.
DutchBitch gave me the award yesterday, then Dawg gave it to me today when he should have been sleeping even though he knew I already got it cuz he’s sneaky like that.
Rules:
1. Identify the originator of this award, and link so she can get her well-deserved traffic. It’s Kayla at Project Mommy.
2. Pass on at least 10 Excellent Blog Awards.
I award the following blogs with E for Excellence:
Ocean of Reality
1 step beyond
Rude Cactus
Midnight Therapy with Crystal
BelchSpeak
Potatoes in the Mist
Jumping on the Bandwagon
Anonymous Coworker (you fucking slacker [just kidding!])
sourpuss
Maman des Filles
stefanie says
Amanda in Real Life
A Slice of Geek
Tense Teacher
The blog of whall
ButteryPopcorn.net (I know I write there, but Dawg does all the hard work. )
Ok, I’m done.
Have a great Friday, dammit! And… fuck it?
I sat outside in the sun for a while after scaring off the neighbor dogs who pretend they’re vicious. (I’ll show you vicious, you little shitheads.) (Notice how Poppy loves all creatures but calls these-dogs-in-particular shitheads. Yup.)
I finally figured out how to make my TuneCast Auto work in my car so I can listen to my iPod while I drive. Hold. it. near. the. radio. Poppy. (I iz smaht.)
I then got the biggest iced latte possible at Java J’s.
I went to lunch at my stepdad’s favorite Italian restaurant. I had salad with homemade Italian dressing, garlic bread, and fettucine alfredo. (Hi, stop making fun of me. You know who you are. 
)
I saw a complete T. Rex skeleton. For real. And the only known red panda skull on the planet. For real.
I ate leftover barbecue, fettucine, cole slaw, and fries for dinner. And then I had Hershey’s chocolate ripple ice cream for dessert. My mom then told me her scale is 10 lbs light. Fuck. (ok, not fuck, who the fuck cares, it’s fucking vacation, fuck you, wheeeeeeeeeFUCKeeeeeee.)
I’m now watching yesterday’s Top Chef.
I love food.
This video demonstrates the exciting-to-only-us conversations Dawg and I have:
He swears a lot. I cannot even tell you how adorable I find that.
